Perspective: Busy

Dying every night and smiling in the morning. Everyone is so busy. When a family member had seizures at night, I would stay up late doing homework, and stay up watching him, being alert to make sure he was alright breathing after them. And I would hear the loud silence on its way to reach to him. My ears would perk up until we got a dog that would monitor for us. And death has a void. My ear pulled one night by the strength of stress maybe. Pulled so hard, my jaw tried to break open. Pulled so hard I clutched my right hand, while I felt the prying in my bones that tried to flatten me. This is what he must feel like, every night. Fighting death, in that moment. I thought, I need to fight, I need to be here with him in the morning. I am a mother, my children need me. That is the only reason I felt I needed to live. Otherwise, it would be just for rebellion, at the time. My heart beat was so loud, those seconds felt like minutes, I was pulling my bones into self while something in me tried to pull me apart. I’m going to be here, alive in the morning. I need to be here right now, to see my sons. Everyone is so busy. It felt like a test. And my alarm is off, up in the morning, on my feet but my right toe was numb, heavy. My right ear, numb, heavy, the right side of my face felt off balance, under pressure. But I need to smile for my children this morning. My family member fought so many times, and smiles everyday. Hid my limp for months. Pulled my ear to open the channel for years. Hoped to stop the ringing reminder of the prying. And I hid my limp, balled my toes as much as I could to compensate for the toes not moving, to pick up the weight in those flats. And I was less happy to justify the lack of a smile or a laugh, for months. And I made breakfast in the morning and carried on, happy that my family was smiling. Glad we are all still here. Everyone is so busy.